Sacrificial Lamb
by wayward-tiger
Summary: The world is coming to an end at the hands of Sam, boy-king of hell and current ruler of the world. It's up to his brother, Dean, to find a way to put a stop to the killing of innocent lives. What is Dean willing to sacrifice?


His fist connected with the elaborately decorated Spanish cedar exterior door—the only thing separating him from his once little brother, Sam. Ever since the world came crashing down to a disturbing end, Sam had fled into seclusion with the company of Lucifer's demonic legion. Dean hadn't seen his brother in the past year because Sam was apparently too busy playing boy-king to the crumbled hierarchy of the planet, too busy spreading fear and distrust across the nations under his rule.

Because of his brother, thousands of innocent people were killed and tortured, raped and robbed by Sam's growing army. Dean hated to believe that it was true, but he knew that he would eventually have to face the facts and deal with Sam's destructive actions. It had been too long and too many had suffered at his brother's threatening hands—it was up to Dean now to put an end to it.

Dean was pulled away from his thoughts when he heard a loud groan creak from the large door's metallic hinges as it opened wide. Pulling the door open was a familiar face that Dean immediately recognized as someone he thought to be dead. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped agape—sure he heard there was some crazy shit going around since the start of the apocalypse, but he never imagined that he'd be seeing the dead people from his nightmares opening the door to his brother's castle-like abode.

"Welcome, Dean, we've been expecting you." The familiar figure smiled at him from doorway, stepping to the side to make room for Dean's entrance.

"Bela." Dean breathed as he moved into the entrance.

The woman nodded and closed the door behind him. Without the natural daylight flooding through the passageway, Dean was able to take in the true presentation of the lobby. As Bela led Dean through the hallway, he observed the golden walls with its complicated jacquard and fleur-de-lis patterns embedded into the structure. Brass candle torches were placed every few feet from each other and lined the walls, illuminating their path. The floor was covered with a lavish deep red velvet cut rug that extended the entire stretch from the front entry to the heightened marble staircase at the end of the long foyer. The ceiling was painted with gold leaf cherubs that looked less holy than one would hope; their blank eyes stared and followed Dean with each step he took further into enemy territory.

Keeping pace with his current hostess, Dean allowed his eyes to wander as he commented with a small whistle, "Never took Sammy for the Count Dracula type when it comes to decorating."

Bela turned her head and chuckled, a light spark filled her pale eyes, "Our king prefers style that suits his rank," she turned her head forward again, "The world must know of his power in both actions and presentation."

Dean rolled his eyes at her statement and continued forward in silence.

They came to a stop when they reached the white marble staircase that extended upward and then split into two separate sides. Bela stilled at the bottom of the stairs and motioned for Dean to continue forward, "Walk up and to the left. Master's throne room is straight through the gold gates. He will be waiting for you."

"Oh-kay…" Dean gave her a wink and clicked his tongue twice before heading up the staircase in the direction she had instructed him to follow.

At the top of the staircase, Dean was surprised to find two large gold-plated gates—each with realistic vines and thorns slithering down and weaving inside and out of the span of the expensive gates. Behind the gates were a set of stained red mahogany doors that reminded Dean of a chapel's entrance. Dean stepped forward and gently pushed one of the massive gated doors open with the force of one pointer finger. The door slowly creaked open to reveal the white blinding light of the throne room.

Cautiously he entered through the passage and treaded onto an intricately tiled floor—the colors of blood red and virgin white patterned with each other in the shape of never-ending diamonds. The throne room was massive; it appeared to be the size of a large gymnasium. The walls were covered with hanging mirrors and crystal torches lit by crimson flames. The only piece of furniture in the room was the throne that sat at the opposite end from the doors, delicately perched atop a marble dais; plush fur-lined pillows and Egyptian cotton linen were carelessly tossed to the sides of the lone piece of furniture.

The throne itself was an enormous golden chair that was fitted with the softest red velvet cushioning. Its backside reached higher than its occupant, and stretched into the wall to create a shape of mighty, outspread wings; above the wings rested a ring of pale silver in the shape of a floating halo. Sitting inside the monumental throne was the person Dean had been dreading to see—his brother.

Dean could see his brother lounging in the comfort of his large throne like a lazy cat watching a tiny mouse patter about in its cage. Sam was relaxed in his white suite, one leg rested atop his other knee; he kept the elevated foot tapping against thin air as he waited for Dean to approach him.

With a coy smile, Sam flicked his hand up and to the side, adequately closing the throne gate behind his brother. He watched as Dean jumped from the unexpected slam of the door, and noted how he never took his eyes off of Sam for a second.

Sam curled his finger and tauntingly motioned for his brother to lessen their distance, "I was wondering when you'd finally show up," Sam's smile widened as he was able to make out the bright color of Dean's eyes when he started stepping closer to the dais, "Welcome home."

Dean stopped at the foot of the platform and looked up at his brother with slight confusion, "Sam," Dean's breath was shaking due to his nervousness and ill-tamed emotions, "You gotta stop this, Sammy."

The man in the throne tilted his head in amusement, "Oh, Dean, I've only just begun."

In the second it took for Sam to finish his sentence, he was immediately at Dean's side in a blink of an eye. He wrapped his arm around Dean in an oh-so-seductive manner and brought Dean's head to his chest, rubbing his fresh rose boutonniere into his brother's nose. Dean tried to push at first, but then gradually relaxed into his brother's hold once he realized Sam's grip wasn't going anywhere.

"Sam…" Dean sighed, "I can't do this—I can't just end you like you're some everyday average-Joe demon I clean off the streets."

"You don't have to." Sam soothed Dean, brushing his long fingers against Dean's short cropped hair, "We're together now, Dean."

"You can't do this, Sam." Dean was finally able to get lose from Sam's hold and took an evaluating step backward, "I might not be able to kill you, but I gotta stop you from hurting more innocent people."

Sam peered down at his brother, disappointed with his righteous beliefs and loyalty to the people.

"The world can't go on like this anymore."

"Tell me, Dean, what do you plan to do to stop it?"

Dean looked hurt and perplexed at hearing his brother not willingly wanting to help the innocent. He looked down at his feet in shame; he didn't know what he was expected to say.

"I don't know…" Dean whispered, still not making contact with his brother.

"Tell me, Dean, if these people you so desperately wish to protect are that important to you."

"I said I don't know!" Dean spat and shot a hateful glare toward Sam and his throne.

"Tell me." Sam growled low and threatening.

Dean stood panting with puzzled thoughts for a moment before he met his brother's stare again, his jaw tightened and his stance stood firm.

"I'd do anything, Sam."

"Oh, really? What about ending me?" Sam teased as he playfully tickled his fingers across the defined line of Dean's jaw.

"Anything but that." Dean corrected himself.

"Do you mean what you say?"

Dean looked his brother in the eye with great intensity and answered, "Yes."

"You're willing to become the world's sacrificial lamb again and again just to save the ignorant fools from their own deserved suffering?"

"Yes, Sam."

"Then you're an even greater fool than them."

Dean only glared at his brother with contempt as Sam began to howl with wild laughter that echoed through the mirrored hall.

"Sam!" Dean broke the chaotic noise, gaining Sam's attention again, "I mean it, Sam, I'll do anything. Just stop killing the innocent—this isn't what you would've wanted."

Sam's head tilted to the side again and a modest smile dimpled his features, "It's true, it's not what I would've wanted," Sam sauntered closer to the hunter, "I've only ever wanted one thing."

Sam was so close to Dean, their chests were just barely separated from touching, and Dean could feel his brother's breath ghost along the exposed flesh of his neck. Dean took a gulp of air and looked up at his towering brother—the king of the world.

"And what would that be?" Dean asked.

Dean felt his brother's fingers trail along the rim of his ear lobe and pull him closer so that their faces were almost touching, "I've only ever wanted you, Dean."

Dean's heart skipped a beat as Sam forcefully pressed their lips together in a hot, unanticipated kiss. His eyes flung wide open and his hands searched for an unyielding hold on his brother's taller shoulders. When their lips separated, Sam looked down at Dean with a look of satisfaction.

"Do you agree to keep your word, Dean?"

"What?" Dean asked, his mind currently too scrambled and bewildered from the current events to properly focus.

"Give yourself to me—body and mind—and I will grant the innocence pardon."

Dean looked uncertain; he knew he was about to make a deal with the devil—even though that devil happened to be his own baby brother.

"Isn't there any other way?" Dean asked, trying to buy some time to think of another plan of action.

"There is nothing else I desire more. It's either you come to me willingly and accomplish what you came here for, or else watch this world burn to ashes while I tie you down like a hog and watch as my legion have their way with you."

"If I do this, will you keep your word?" Dean asked, unsure if he trusted Sam or not.

"You will be my queen, and I will grant your every desire." Sam pulled out the rose from his breast pocket and extended it toward his brother.

Dean stood with silent uncertainty.

"Your answer?" Sam asked for a second time.

Dean raised his eyes to Sam and reached for the flower in his brother's palm. He picked the flower from his thorn-covered stem, pricking his thumb and drawing a small bubble of fresh blood, and walked into Sam's open arm.

"I agree." Dean spoke softly.

Sam waved his hand in a fast motion, and Dean was stripped bare and then recovered in skin-tight black shorts and a leather strap harnesses, which didn't do much to cover the majority of his exposed chest. A collar was fit snuggly against his neck, and he could feel the weight of a newly acquired chastity cage between his legs.

"What was that, Dean?"

Dean looked down at his appearance before looking back up to his new king, "I agree, master."

Sam smiled so wide that the whites of his teeth nearly blinded Dean. The suited man turned his back to his new queen, and rose to his rightful throne on the dais. He took his seat in the comfort of its soft cushions before he glanced down at Dean.

"Take your rightful throne, my queen." Sam spoke as he pointed to the spot of fur pillows and linens beside his chair of sovereign, "Our legion will be pleased to have you with us now."

Dean haltingly took each step closer toward his humiliating spot beside his brother. Once at the top, he lowered himself to the pillows and sat on his knees. Sam dropped his hand from the arm rest and placed it within Dean's line of vision.

"A kiss from my queen?" Sam teased as he wiggled his fingers about in Dean's face.

With both hands, Dean gently grasped Sam's palm and delicately placed both of his lush lips against the back skin of his hand. Sam sighed with pleasure, knowing full well that he had many, many more years of this to look forward to.

"I want you by my side from now on, Dean," Sam combed his fingers through Dean's hair, "Our separation was too much to bear. I can't go another moment without seeing you."

Sam looked down at his brother when he didn't hear Dean respond and tightened his grip on Dean's skull, "Don't you agree, Dean?"

"Yes, master."


End file.
